After the chaos at home, Alex Dunphy needed a moment of peace—or at least, a coffee strong enough to make her forget the fact that her family had nearly poisoned themselves, burned down the kitchen, and live-streamed their entire summer without realizing it. She slumped into a corner booth, sipping her black coffee like it was the only thing tethering her to sanity.
Then, the door swung open.
A guy swaggered in like he owned the place—backward baseball cap, beat-up sneakers, and a grin that said he was either trouble or the most entertaining person in the room. Maybe both. The barista perked up like she knew him, and a few heads turned his way.
"Ayy, what's good, Jefe?" he called out to the cashier, leaning on the counter. "Hit me with a large iced coffee—extra sugar, extra espresso, make it dangerous—and uh… one of them lil' bacon sandwiches. Nah, make it two. I'm feelin' generous today."
His voice was loud, his energy infectious. Alex couldn't help but stare—partly because he was so different from anyone she usually interacted with, and partly because he moved like a hurricane in human form.
Then, he caught her looking.
His smirk was instant, cocky but playful. Without missing a beat, he grabbed his order, sauntered over, and plopped into the seat across from her like they were already friends.
"Aight, hermana, either you starin' 'cause I'm that fine, or you tryna figure out if I'm 'bout to rob the place. Which one is it?" He took a huge bite of his sandwich, waiting for her answer like this was the most normal conversation starter in the world.
Alex blinked. "I—uh—"
"Nah, nah, don't hurt yourself thinkin' too hard," he laughed, waving a hand. "Name's Marco. You look like you either had the best day of your life or the worst. And since you drinkin' coffee like it's liquid suffering, I'm guessin' the second one."
Alex exhaled, almost amused despite herself. "You're not wrong."
"Ay, that's what I'm here for. Free therapy sessions, just add caffeine." He slid one of his bacon sandwiches toward her. "Eat. You look like you need it more than me."
She hesitated, but the smell was too good to resist. "Thanks… I'm Alex."
"Alex, huh?" He leaned back, studying her. "You one of them smart types, ain't you? Like, real smart. Bet you got a PhD in overthinking."
"Alex, huh?" He leaned back, studying her. "You one of them smart types, ain't you? Like, real smart. Bet you got a PhD in overthinking."
She snorted. "Close. Just a high school diploma and a lifetime of being the only sane person in my family."
"Oof. Sounds rough." He took a sip of his coffee, then grinned. "Tell you what—next time your family drives you nuts, you come find me. I'll teach you how to hotwire a car so you can make a real escape."
Alex laughed—actually laughed—for the first time in days. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're smilin'. Mission accomplished." He winked. "So, Alex-with-the-PhD-in-overthinking… you come here often, or was today just my lucky day?"
She rolled her eyes but couldn't fight the smirk. "You're really pushing your luck."
"Eh, worth a shot." He leaned forward, mischief in his eyes. "But for real—you seem cool. We should hang out. I'll show you how the other half lives. You know, the fun half."
Alex raised an eyebrow. "And what exactly does the 'fun half' do?"
"Whatever we want, hermana." He spread his arms like he was presenting the world to her. "Street tacos, lowrider shows, maybe even teach you how to not look like a lost puppy in a Starbucks. Whaddya say?"
She should've said no. She definitely should've said no.
But for once, Alex Dunphy didn't overthink it.
"…Fine. But if you're secretly a serial killer, I will outsmart you."
Marco burst out laughing. "Damn, alright! I like you, Alex. This is gonna be fun."
And just like that, her terrible day got a whole lot more interesting.
******
Alex sat in the same corner booth of Starbucks, sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone. The day before her Caltech campus tour, she wanted a moment of quiet—something her household was notoriously bad at providing. She absentmindedly nibbled on her sandwich, barely registering the chatter around her.
Then, the door swung open, and a familiar voice cut through the hum of the café.
"Ayy, Jefe! Large iced coffee, extra shot—make it mean today!"
Alex glanced up. There he was—Marco, in his oil-stained mechanic's jumpsuit, sleeves tied around his waist, a streak of grease smudged across his cheek like war paint. He didn't seem to care that he looked like he'd just wrestled a car engine and lost. If anything, he carried himself with even more swagger than before.
He chatted up the barista, cracking some joke that made her laugh, then grabbed his coffee and turned—only to lock eyes with Alex. His grin widened.
"Well, well. Look who it is—mami." He slid into the seat across from her like no time had passed.
Alex arched an eyebrow. "You're calling me mami now?"
"What, you prefer hermana? Princesa? Doctora Overthinker?" He took a loud slurp of his coffee. "Nah, mami fits. You got that 'I'm too smart for this' vibe."
She rolled her eyes but couldn't help the tiny smirk. "You're ridiculous."
"And you're still drinkin' coffee like it's punishment." Without hesitation, he reached over and took a bite of her sandwich.
"Hey!" Alex glared. "Did I say you could do that?"
"Nah, but you were thinkin' it." He chewed, unbothered. "So, what's new? You still babysittin' your family or what?"
She sighed. "Somehow, they've gotten worse. Tomorrow, we're touring Caltech, and I already know it's going to be a disaster."
"Caltech, huh?" Marco whistled. "Damn, mami, you are smart. Bet you're gonna build, like, a robot butler or some Tony Stark shit."
Alex snorted. "I'm more worried about my family embarrassing me in front of actual scientists."
"Psh. If they do, just tell 'em you're with me now." He winked. "Speaking of—you ain't ghosted me yet, so I'm takin' that as a sign. We hangin' out today or what?"
"I—wait, what? No, I was just gonna go home and—"
"Nah, nah, nah." Marco stood up, grabbing her empty plate and coffee cup like the decision was already made. "You need fun. Real fun. Not 'reading in silence' fun. My kinda fun."
Alex opened her mouth to protest, but he was already heading for the door, tossing a "Come on, mami!" over his shoulder like a challenge.
Grumbling, she followed.
Marco's car was an old but surprisingly clean Honda Civic—clearly his pride and joy. "Fixed 'er up myself," he said proudly, patting the dashboard. "She purrs like a kitten now."
Alex buckled in, already questioning her life choices.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled up to a dimly lit pool hall in South LA. The moment they walked in, Alex stiffened. The place was rough—flickering neon signs, a haze of cigarette smoke (despite California laws), and more than a few guys who looked like they'd stepped out of a crime drama.
Marco, however, was greeted like a local hero.
"Ey, Marco! ¿Qué onda, güey?"
"Ayy, Rivera! You bringin' blanquitas in here now?"
"Shut up, pendejo," Marco shot back, laughing. "This is Alex. She's cool. Más lista que vos, seguro."
Alex swallowed hard. "You know these people?" she muttered
.
"Relax, mami," Marco said, steering her toward a pool table. "They're all bark. Mostly."
He grabbed two cues and handed her one. "Ever played?"
"No," Alex admitted.
"Perfect." His grin was downright predatory. "This is gonna be fun."
The game was… well, it was a massacre. Alex fumbled every shot, while Marco moved around the table like a shark, sinking balls with effortless precision. But to her surprise, he wasn't smug about it—just amused, coaching her with ridiculous tips like "Hit it like you hate it!" and "Channel your inner chola!"
By the end, she'd actually managed to sink two balls. Marco acted like she'd won the championship.
"Ayy, mami! You're a natural!"
"I lost horribly," Alex deadpanned.
"Nah, you lost with style." He slung an arm around her shoulders. "Now, let's get you home before your parents call the federales."
He dropped her off at her car, engine idling like he was reluctant to let her go.
"So. Caltech, huh?" Marco drummed his fingers on the wheel. "You gonna be all fancy and forget about us little people?"
Alex rolled her eyes. "Somehow, I doubt anyone could forget you."
"Damn right." He smirked. "Aight, mami. Text me when you're back. We doin' this again."
"We didn't exchange numbers," she pointed out.
"Oh. Right." He grabbed her phone, punched in his digits, and handed it back. "Now we did."
Alex shook her head, but she was smiling. "Goodnight, Marco."
"Buenas noches, princesa."
******
Alex sat cross-legged on her bed in the lotus position, fully immersed in her new book—The Elegant Universe by Brian Greene. The soft glow of her bedside lamp cast warm light over the pages as she traced a line with her finger, lips curling into a small smile at a particularly fascinating passage about string theory.
She was dressed for comfort—an oversized NASA T-shirt (a relic from a middle-school phase) and black cotton shorts, her bare feet tucked beneath her. Her glasses had slid down her nose, and she absentmindedly pushed them back up with one finger, not wanting to break her focus.
Then—ping.
Her phone vibrated on the nightstand. She ignored it.
Ping. Ping.
Alex scowled, snapping her book shut and shoving a bookmark between the pages before snatching up her phone. Three texts from Marco lit up the screen:
Marco: yo u up for darts?
Marco: yo mami
Marco: YO MAMI
She typed back sharply:
Alex: No.
Marco: why not???
Alex: It's late.
Marco: bruh it's not even 10
Alex: I'm busy.
Marco: with what?? reading a book??
Alex rolled her eyes. How does he even—
Alex: Yes.
Marco: lame. send me ur address im picking u up
Alex: No.
Marco: why not???
Alex: My parents are home. They'll see you.
Marco: so?? what's wrong w me picking u up?? ur parents racist or sumn??
Alex's fingers flew over the screen.
Alex: What?! No!
Marco: then why cant i come get u
She groaned, knowing he wouldn't let this go.
Alex: Fine. [sends address]
She looked down at her outfit—way too casual for going out. With a sigh, she tossed her phone aside and rummaged through her drawer for jeans and a hoodie.
Just as she finished tugging on her sneakers—HONK HONK HONK.
"ALEX! MAMI! LET'S GOOOO!" Marco's voice carried through the window like a foghorn.
Alex froze, mortified. Oh my God. She peeked through the blinds—Marco was leaning out of his car window, grinning like a maniac.
She hesitated, torn between bolting downstairs and hiding under her bed forever.
Then—knock knock.
"Alex?" Claire's voice came through the door. "Was that… someone yelling for you outside?"
Alex yanked the door open, already defensive. "No. Maybe. It's fine."
Claire crossed her arms. "Who's 'Mami'?"
"Nobody. A friend. It's—whatever." Alex tried to sidestep her, but Claire blocked the doorway.
"You're sneaking out?"
"I'm eighteen. I don't sneak."
"Then why are you acting like you're sneaking?"
Alex groaned. "Mom, please—"
Another HONK.
Claire's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, this I have to see."
Before Alex could stop her, Claire marched downstairs and out the front door. Alex scrambled after her, heart pounding.
Marco was still idling in the driveway, music thumping. When he saw Claire, he flashed a grin. "Ayy, you must be Mami's mom! Qué onda, señora?"
Claire blinked. "…Hi."
Alex wanted to melt into the pavement.
"I'm Marco," he said, leaning out the window. "Just takin' Alex out for darts. Gotta teach her how to live a little, ya know?"
Claire shot Alex a look. "Darts?"
"It's fine," Alex muttered.
"Where exactly are you playing darts at 10 PM?" Claire pressed.
"Uh…" Marco scratched his head. "This chill spot in South LA. Totally safe. Promise."
Claire's expression was pure skepticism.
Marco, undeterred, kept talking. "Look, señora, I get it—you're protective. But I'm a gentleman. Plus, Alex is way too smart to get into trouble." He paused. "…Unless she wants to."
Alex groaned. "Oh my God—"
Claire studied Marco for a long moment, then sighed. "Home by midnight."
"Mom!" Alex protested.
"12:30," Marco countered.
Claire almost smiled. Almost. "Midnight."
"Deal." Marco jerked his head toward the car. "C'mon, mami. Time's wastin'."
Alex hesitated, but the alternative was standing there while her mom and Marco bonded over embarrassing her. She huffed and climbed into the passenger seat.
As Marco peeled out of the driveway, Claire called after them: "And text me when you get there!"
Alex slumped in her seat, mortified.
Marco just laughed. "Damn, your mom's intense."
"You have no idea," Alex muttered.
"Eh, she's cool." He cranked up the music. "Now buckle up, princesa. Tonight, you're learnin' how to throw."
Alex sighed—but as they sped into the night, she couldn't fight the tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Marco's car rumbled to a stop outside a dimly lit bar with a flickering neon sign that simply read "El Rey". It was smaller than the pool hall from last time, but the vibe was just as rowdy—music thumping, laughter spilling out the door, and the sharp clack of darts hitting the board inside.
Alex hesitated. "This place looks… intense."
Marco grinned, already unbuckling. "Nah, it's chill. Just don't stare at anyone too long unless you wanna make a new amigo."
She shot him a look, but he was already out of the car, waiting for her with that same infuriating smirk.
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of beer and fried food. A few heads turned their way—some nodding at Marco, others eyeing Alex with curiosity. Marco led her straight to the dartboard in the back, slapping hands with a couple of guys along the way.
"Two Bacanoras," he called to the bartender, then glanced at Alex. "You drinkin'?"
"No," she said firmly.
"Cool, more for me." He winked. "But if I don't finish, you takin' the rest home. Waste not, mami."
Alex rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
The darts matches were, predictably, a disaster for her. Marco was annoyingly good—hitting bullseyes like it was nothing—while Alex's throws either barely stuck or missed entirely.
"Ayy, close!" Marco cheered when one of hers finally landed in the outer ring. "See? You got a killer arm when you focus."
"I'm losing by, like, a hundred points," Alex deadpanned.
"Nah, nah, you learnin'." He took a swig of his drink. "Next round, you'll destroy me."
She doubted that.
Then, he showed up.
A guy in his late twenties—muscular, buzzed hair, a tattoo creeping up his neck—leaned against the bar, eyes locked on Alex. "Damn, mami, you new around here?"
Alex stiffened. Marco didn't even look up, just took another sip of his drink.
"She's busy," he said, voice casual but edged with warning.
The guy smirked. "Ain't talkin' to you, ese."
Marco finally turned, slow and deliberate. "Yeah? Well, you should be. 'Cause last time you talked shit, your girl left you for me. And your mom's pastel de elote." He grinned. "Shit was bomb, by the way."
Alex's eyes widened. Oh my God.
The guy's face twisted. "You little—"
He lunged, fist flying—but before it could connect, two of Marco's friends materialized out of nowhere, yanking him back.
"Chill, güey!" one barked, shoving him toward the door.
Marco hadn't even flinched. He just picked up his darts like nothing happened. "Your turn, princesa."
Alex stared. "Did you have to do that?"
"Do what?" He shrugged. "Dude was bein' disrespectful. Ain't my fault his life's a mess."
She exhaled sharply but grabbed the darts. "You're insane."
"And you're welcome," he shot back, grinning.
By the time Marco pulled up to Alex's house, it was 12:28.
"Told you I'd get you back on time," he said, patting the dashboard like his car deserved credit.
Alex unbuckled, still processing the night. "You also nearly started a bar fight."
"Nearly is the key word." He smirked. "Had fun, though, right?"
She hesitated. "…It wasn't terrible."
"High praise." He handed her the half-finished bottle of Bacanora. "For your next super exciting night in."
Alex took it, fighting a smile. "Goodnight, Marco."
"Buenas noches, mami."
As she slipped inside, Claire's voice floated from the living room: "Cutting it close, huh?"
Alex held up the bottle. "Blame the darts."
Claire raised an eyebrow but didn't press.
Upstairs, Alex set the Bacanora on her desk and flopped onto her bed. Her phone buzzed—Marco, already texting:
next time, bowling. ur gonna suck at that too
She snorted.
Against all odds… she was kinda looking forward to it.